


Steamy

by Kyn_Moonlight (Kyn_Moonligjt)



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: (hinted) - Freeform, Accidental Voyeurism, Aromantic Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Bath Houses, Edging, F/M, Fingering, First Time, Flirting, Fluff and Smut, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Relationship Negotiation, Semi-Public Sex, Wet & Messy, entrainment, polyamorous bi lesbian couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:15:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29879622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyn_Moonligjt/pseuds/Kyn_Moonlight
Summary: Steam bath after a mission. Some visitors make it extra steamy.Inspired by the encounter, Geralt and Jaskier figure out a few things.Before today, Jaskier had never seen him come. It was… better than he’d ever imagined, and he wanted to see it every day. Up close, and personal. And he wanted it to be because ofhim.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Original Female Character(s), Jaskier | Dandelion/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 66





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written March 2020-March 2021
> 
> OMG, I have never ever in my fandom life written (or even wanted to write!) Het Porn!!!  
> Well, in this case it’s just to let the guys get a peek at what they’ve been missing out on and could have if they’d stop being so stubborn, scared, and clueless. (sorry fictional ladies, no offense intended but you’re just not Geraskier)
> 
> NOTE: G/OFC & J/OFC is just chapter 1 and G/J chapter 2
> 
> Warnings: Jaskier momentarily wonders if a woman he’s becoming sexually intimate with is underage, but she’s not. 
> 
> Mentions of past consensual sex between underage people
> 
> Limit of ‘public sex’ is G/ofc and J/ofc have sex in the same room but not (not quite) together. Unintended voyeurism. 

The inn didn’t have a bathtub, but the town had a small wooden building with a steam bath.

Geralt had hummed happily at the thought of steam heat easing all the aches from his fight, and Jaskier couldn’t very well let him go alone.

It was oddly pleasant, Jaskier thought, once he’d calmed his fluttering mind enough to be mostly still, breathing the steam, relaxing into the heat, letting his thoughts drift. As always, there were melodies playing in his head, but he just let them play, occasionally picking out a few notes with the shape of his fingers in empty air, but mostly drifting with no real focus.

Geralt sat closer to the coals, still plenty hot, banked and coasting down to to be left unattended overnight. He was slouched on the lower bench, with his elbows on the seat of the upper tier where Jaskier sat a few armlengths away. His eyes were closed, head tipped back and countenance at peace as sweat and steam beaded on his skin, a towel draped casually over his lap.

Jaskier kept a bit of distance from the coals and the Witcher both, because of the heat (of both the literal and every so lovely visual variety) and because it seemed polite to not crowd the other man. The wall was at his back, a bit cooler from the outdoor chill, which was also pleasant because he didn’t have a Witcher’s tolerance for such intense heat. His own towel was still wrapped close around his waist, as he sat, occasionally glancing down at Geralt’s gloriously broad, deliciously glossy shoulders, and trying to not want more than glancing. 

Geralt basked in the steam, and Jaskier mostly drifted. Sometimes humming soft bits of melodies, sometimes coming close to what he thought a meditative state must be like.

It felt like quite a long time later that the door opened, letting in a waft of cooler air from the anteroom where they left their clothes. He looked up immediately, not expecting anyone else so late. The proprietor hadn’t expected anyone else that evening when she left them. Geralt barely slit open an eye at the change. Probably perfectly ready to spring into action if necessary but preferring to ignore the interruption.

Quite the interruption it was. One woman with full curves completely on display, lips red, eyes dark, and a towel held casually in her hand, and the other a more slender but pretty young woman, wrapped in a towel tucked together over her breasts. Their hair, probably in deference to the steam, was twisted up on their heads, the first in thick black curls, and the other between dark bond and pale brown. Loose wisps around their faces softened the style and made them lovelier.

“Oh!” he said, sitting up more. His eyes flicked over them but he tried to direct his glance politely towards their faces. “Our apologies, lovely ladies. Is our time up? We can give you your privacy if you give us a moment to…”

The first woman had walked with a sway of her plentiful, curvaceous hips, right up to Geralt, dropping her towel on the bench near his hip.

“Don’t go,” the younger one said, a little shyly, coming up to Jaskier. On the higher bench, he was at her eye level, and she smiled flirtatiously at him, brushing a fingertip over the back of his hand where it rested on his bare knee.

Oh. “Oh!”

Geralt had let his eyes drift open a little further to assess the vision in front of him, his lips parted in what would be a neutral expression on another’s face, but that familiarity told Jaskier was a precursor to a smile for the Witcher. He made a curious but interested Hmm. “What’s your price?” he asked in a voice even deeper and lazier than usual.

Jaskier’s lady visitor looked a bit offended at that, and he could have told Geralt that this wasn’t the feigned coquettishness of a professional but a genuine interest. He smiled reassuringly to the pretty blonde at his knee and caught her hand to rub a thumb soothingly over the back of it.

Well perhaps from Geralt’s view, he had to admit, the mistake could more easily be made.

Rather than be offended, the woman laughed, full and rich as her figure. “We’re not here for privacy or coin,” she bent to pluck the towel right off Geralt’s lap and drop it with hers, “but for you. If it please you?”

Judging by the glimpse of Geralt’s half-hard cock, and half-cocked smile, it did. She flowed right into his lap, thighs spreading wide around his hips and wrists draped over his shoulders that still leaned indolently against the back of the bench seat. The curls at her groin pressed right against his and her broad nipple a breath away from his lips.

Jaskier’s admirer fluttered her lashes at him. “Please?”

He leaned forward taking her other hand and the offer eagerly. “Oh, yes.”

She slipped her hands out of his and used them to unwrap her towel, holding onto the ends as she looked him over as eagerly as he did her.

Beside them, a soft but gratified gasp from both Geralt and the woman in his lap made it plain that he’d already slipped inside her.

“What’s your name darling?” Jaskier asked softly, leaning forward to press a kiss between her breasts, before looking into her forest-green eyes.

“I’m Alisa,” she told him, brushing her cheek against his before pulling back and nodding toward the other couple. “And that’s Marina.”

“Jaskier.” A head nod was an acceptable substitute for a courtly bow under the circumstances. “Master bard, singer of renown, storyteller of my friend there, Geralt of Rivia, the famous Witcher.”

Marina made a hmph of dismissal worthy of the Witcher himself, which he echoed half a second later, neither wavering from their energetic fucking.

“We _know_ who you are,” Alisa said, managing both fond and exasperated at the same time. “That’s why we’re here.” She was a delight.

Ah, yes, he remembered her watching him intently while he performed last night. He gave her a softer, more honest version of his performance smile.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

She shivered when he stroked the flat of his tongue over a small firm nipple, and he trailed a hand down the soft skin of her stomach. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a more pleasurable introduction.”

“Dare I ask your age, lovely Alisa?” he whispered before going further. Some women had a slight, lithe build, which was wonderful, but sometimes that made them look perhaps too young for propriety, which was less wonderful to consider. Better to ask than not.

She huffed a small soft laugh. “Not so young as you might think. I dreamed of filling out as well as Marina, but at twenty-two I’m afraid that’s a futile hope.”

If she’d said eighteen he’d have suspected she meant sixteen, but even with a year or so plus or minus, 22 meant she knew what she was doing.

He claimed a kiss at that, and let the fingers on her stomach drift lower to tease at her folds. He’d just slipped them inside, their quiet conversation and the way the other two were completely ignoring them in favor of their own pleasure making it feel like they had a bit of privacy to explore, when a louder gasp and groan from beside them momentarily caught his attention.

Marina was riding Geralt’s cock enthusiastically, and Geralt had finally moved out of his lazy sprawl to fill his hands and mouth – equally enthusiastically – with her bountiful tits.

Alisa had lowered her eyes when he turned back to her, and she shrugged.

“If you want her instead, we can switch when they’re done.”

If his fingers still moving inside her and the heel of his hand pressed against her clit didn’t convince her he wanted her, then maybe he wasn’t what she had been hoping for.

“Is that what you want?”

“No,” she said almost too quickly. She peeked to her left with a hint of trepidation.

Ah, her apprehension of the Witcher was a more common reaction than her friend’s lustful dive onto his cock.

She smiled softly as she looked back at him, breathing her whisper into his hair. “I want _you_. I’ve wanted you since I saw you play last night. I could hardly sleep for the vibrations that the memory of your voice sent through me.” She ground her pussy into his palm and he purred back at the feeling and the praise. “The way you looked back at me, and then the way his eyes lingered on her in the market earlier today, we thought you wouldn’t mind. Even though you two are…?” She trailed off questioningly.

“Traveling together,” Jaskier offered, shrugging when she gave him a very skeptical glance.

She pulled back a little and he stilled his hand in response. “It’s just,” she canted her head to the side, “ _she’s_ got what they all want. The last man I approached told me I had a body like a fifteen year old boy.”

“Darling, no,” he told her gently, cupping her small but prettily formed breast with his other hand, sucking a little kiss on the nipple before showing her his face so she could see his sincerity. “Trust me, I have _had_ fifteen year old boys,”

Well that earned a side-eye from Geralt, who he knew could hear their whispers, but hadn’t thought he was sparing any attention from his current intense focus.

Jaskier smiled anyhow. “ _When I was one._ And while that was its own delight, they weren’t half as lovely as you. This. And this,” he squeezed gently with both his hands, “are perfection. A delightfully small package of womanhood is no less worthy of worship. Fools that would turn you down, didn’t deserve a chance to see you like this.”

He proved it by making her gasp with gentle but firm suction and tongue to one breast. He bracketed both hands on her hips, not much wider than his and caressed the graceful curves of them.

When she smiled back he did as well. “Besides, I’ve been told the same thing. Sometimes derisively, sometimes mockingly.” Was that another side eye from the Witcher? “Sometimes with desire. But I promise you I can do things with this body no teen has yet learned. Let me show you?”

He took the towel from her hands and spread it over the bench. His own was loosened from movement and the pressure of his eager cock. He let her push it off his hips with an approving smile, and kissed down her stomach with an obvious goal in mind.

“You’re very sweet, Jaskier, but I was hoping for,” she boldly reached forward and grabbed his cock, “something I can’t get at home.” Her eyes darted to Marina and his followed.

“Oh? Oh, well then, I’m at your service. How may I best put my manly attributes to use for you?”

She smiled coquettishly, sitting beside him. “Let my lips taste the shape of your words.” She took his hands and lifted them to coax him into standing.

He did and leaned down to answer that request with a kiss. “Let my hands touch your hopes, and hold them,” she whispered against his lips, wrapping a hand around the base of his shaft. “Let my mouth be yielding into the shape of your strength.”

He gasped when her actions mirrored her words, moving down to take his cock in her mouth, sucking hard and fast. “Ah! And let… let my love shape itself to you, flow through you… mmm… to be… to be returned…” his attempt at recitation was a bit less smooth, but he thought that was excusable in this situation.

She released him to tip her eyes up, smirking and letting her lips drag over him as she finished the verse, “… full waves upon my shores.”

He cradled her jaw with a wondering smile. “Not many who can quote _Iris in the Garden of the Crow_.”

“And not many who can appreciate the quoting,” she countered, kissing the head of his cock, and gave it a firm squeeze. “Want this in me now.”

He pushed her to lay back on the towel. “You,” he kissed her, “are thoroughly,” kiss, “a delight!”

Jaskier let his kisses trail down Alisa’s body and her slender fingers – mmm, musician-worthy fingers; he wondered what she played – stroked through his hair.

Two loud gasping groans from their companions signaled they’d found their – based on the sounds mutually satisfactory – orgasms.

Jaskier teased kisses over Alisa’s steam-sweat slicked face, earlobes and lips while the other two panted forehead to forehead.

Without taking his attention from the woman in his lap, Geralt stretched out one hand to toss another dipper of water over the drying coals, which hissed softly, and steam rose. At least he wasn’t telling Jaskier it was time to leave now that he’d had his satisfaction.

“Again?” Marina asked breathlessly, to which Geralt hummed an enthusiastic agreement.

Marina’s back hit the bench with a solid enough thump to shake the one Jaskier and Alisa laid on, and Geralt, who hadn’t even softened or pulled out completely, thrust back into her, hard, earning pleased groans from them both. Geralt’s eyes flicked up to Jaskier’s with an unreadable expression, and Jaskier’s cock pulsed with arousal.

He felt a little bad about letting his focus wander to Geralt instead of Alisa, and made it up to her with more attention. When she started making breathless little gasps, he slid a couple fingers back into her. Moments later, he glanced up at the Witcher when he realized he’d synchronized his thrusts to Geralt’s. Close rhythms can start to entrain, his music studies informed him. Synching beats on the tabor in seminar had a hint of intimacy, but had never felt like.

Geralt and Marina nearby were distracting and arousing in equal measure. But he wasn’t unfamiliar with performing under pressure, and his hands knew how to strike the correct chords even if his attention wavered momentarily.

His hands remembered this melody well, and coaxed the expected notes from woman as easily as lute. She tightened around his fingers, stiffened where his lips pressed against her slender neck, and came shuddering with high pitched whines and half-surprised breaths.

Marina came again almost at the same time. When Jaskier looked up, he saw that her hand was raised above her head, one finger hooked around one of Alisa’s where her hand dangled over the edge of the bench. She flicked a lazy smile at Alisa and gave Jaskier a saucy wink.

“Don’t stop,” she said to Geralt, who hadn’t.

When she closed her eyes in pleasure, Geralt looked up at Jaskier. Was he gloating or was that look something else? Jaskier slid up Alisa’s lithe body, and with a quick pause for her permission – which was delivered with a hard kiss, her heels digging into his butt cheeks, and a sweet sigh of “Jaskier!” – he slid, hot, tight, wet and oh so amazing, into her.

Geralt didn’t take his eyes off him, or from the direction of his gaze, his cock, until he was fully enclosed, and Jaskier could see Geralt’s thick cock, flushed and wet as he pulled out almost completely and thrust slowly back in.

Positioned so they could see one another may have been accidental, but judging by the way the ladies still held hands, they might not object too strongly to the men’s wandering eyes.

“So beautiful, darling,” Jaskier whispered to Alisa. But she wasn’t the only one he meant.

Jaskier hooked an arm under one of her knees to angle and power his thrusts, and the change in the pitch of her cries showed her appreciation.

Geralt had shifted again too, pulling Marina upright effortlessly. With her back against the edge of the higher bench, his foot on their own, their arms and legs were in a sensuous tangle that barely seemed possible, let alone as pleasurable as it obviously was for both of them.

The new position also put Marina’s head next to Alisa’s. And Geralt’s face in direct line of Jaskier’s vision once more, with hardly any distance between them.

Their rhythms entrained again. Time ceased to have meaning.

The women’s joined hands squeezed together as Alisa came under him. He gave her a thorough kiss as he sped up, nearing his own release. When he freed her mouth she turned it to Marina, who came a third time sighing sweetly into their kiss.

The lovely view almost pushed Jaskier over the edge, but when Geralt fearlessly locked eyes with him as he gave a last hard thrust and came, Jaskier had no hope of holding out.

Relaxed and pleasure-drunk, he almost leaned forward to touch his lips to Geralt’s, but the Witcher let his eyes fall closed in satisfaction before the bard could think to move, and started unwinding himself from Marina with lazy satisfied movements. Their thighs were dripping with their release, and they were sweat damp and steam glazed all over.

Alisa said nothing, looking up at Jaskier and he gave her a bright smile, tracing his hands over her sweat-steamed shoulders and ribs. She tilted her head up to him, and they kissed leisurely while their breathing and heart rates calmed.

She swung her legs over to sit and Jaskier sat as well, wondering if things were going to take a turn to awkward now. She leaned into him and gave him a happy little kiss, breathing, “You were as wonderful as I imagined.”

Marina laid a hand against Geralt’s sweat slicked chest. “You as well,” she told him, getting a hmm and a hint of a smile in return.

Alisa stretched languidly, her perky little breasts rising up in a way that almost had Jaskier thinking of another round. She nudged Marina with a foot and slowly stood, pulling Jaskier along by the hand.

“Come on.”

“What? Where?” He let himself be towed along into the anteroom, a breath of the cooler air making him realize how hot it had been in the steam room. “Are we getting dressed now?”

Marina – and Geralt after she gave him a little push – followed along, tossing their towels on the dressing room bench.

Alisa bounced on her toes and giggled, pushing open the outer door to a jarring gush of cold.

“What? What are you doing? We can’t go outside! We’re naked!” Jaskier protested, earning more giggles but no reprieve. She pulled him right out the door and ran toward the stream a dozen paces away. As she refused to let go of his hand, he was forced to run along, with a series of unhappy and undignified sounds.

Marina had taken Geralt’s hand and with her throaty laugh, they followed at a slightly more dignified quickstep.

At the bank of the stream, Alisa released his hand and with a squeal, plunged into the freezing water. She surfaced laughing, panting and calling, “Come ON Jaskier, get IN.”

“Oh, no. No no no,” he protested, half trying to wave his hands in protest and half trying to use them to shield delicate and exposed parts from the cold air. “No!”

“Yes,” Geralt said, with a firm shove between his shoulder blades.

He followed him in and caught his arm to keep him from falling head first on the rocks.

As the other three dunked themselves in the cold stream, the ladies with squeals and laughter, and even the Witcher taking a sharp breath at the quick temperature change, Jaskier stood shivering and incredulous.

“Why would you even do something like this? We’re all going to die of the Pneumonia!”

“Shut up bard,” Geralt growled, with a laugh echoing through it.

Three hands, two on his wrists and one behind his knee pulled him down, and he shook all over from the icy dunking, but felt slightly less chilled after being submerged.

“That’s how steam baths are done” Geralt said, unbothered, as the women scrambled back out of the water, giving them a lovely view of their lovely backsides in the process. Geralt’s handprints were still red against Marina’s pale hips, as they scurried back to the building.

Geralt gave him a hand out of the stream, though he could barely hold it since he was shivering so much. “Have to get in and out quicker next time,” he told him, taking long strides that weren’t running but made Jaskier run to keep up.

He hopped from one foot to the other, clapping his freezing hand over his freezing privates, then pulling it away with a squeak because that was worse. “My dick and bollocks are shrunk up so tight they may never recover!” he hissed.

Geralt raised an eyebrow at their sad state and shrugged. “You’ll be fine.”

“Easy for you to say! You’re still all…” He waved.

He was laughing at him now, even though there was no sound. Geralt pulled the door open and shoved him through before following.

The anteroom air felt hot now and eased his shivers a little. The women were already half dressed, thick knit stockings pulled up, Marina in a shift and Alisa in a chemise and short drawers, white linen showing sheer at spots where it was damp.

Jaskier pulled on smallclothes quickly to cover the sorry showing he was making, but consoled himself that they’d all seen him in a much more impressive state earlier. Oh, sweet Melitele, they’d ALL seen him.

Geralt dressed at a pace that seemed leisurely, but had him fully clothed before the rest of them.

Marina sighed as Alisa helped her snug the back laces of her stays, making her full breasts mound higher. “If I could trade,” she told Alisa whose close-buttoned little waistcoat gave her enough support for her smaller chest.

She pulled a gown over her shoulders and adjusted it to lay properly over her full hips while Alisa pulled on a short, puff-sleeved bodice and loose knee breeches.

“You can have them whenever you want,” Alisa said with an affectionate nudge. She wrapped her arms around Jaskier, now dressed as well and gave him a few solid kisses.

He plucked at the sleeve of her feminine doublet and waved indicating the whole outfit. “This is lovely!”

“You don’t think it’s too boyish?”

He drew his fingers over his own satin insets and lace-trimmed chemise. “Not if you don’t think mine’s too girlish.”

“Never!” she laughed.

“Then you as well. Darling, you’re so perfect the way you are. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

“As I always say,” Marina added.

“And if they don’t like it, then well…” he couldn’t think of anything appropriate.

“Let them taste your steel instead of your flesh,” Geralt finished for him.

Alisa laughed and reached up to pull Geralt down to plant a quick kiss on his cheek, apparently finding that charming instead of bloodthirsty, and leaving him as dumbfounded as Jaskier had ever seen. Marina grabbed Jaskier’s face in both her hands and gave him an unexpected kiss.

Alisa followed closely with another quick kiss of her own. “I can’t wait to hear you sing again!”

When she squeezed his hand as she pulled away, he caught it to stroke her fine fingers. “Never got the chance to ask, what do you play?”

“How do you know I play anything?” 

“No one watches a bard play the way you did if they aren’t a musician themself.”

“Not even if he’s so nice to look at?”

“Darling, you flatter me. And no.”

She had a melodic little chuckle. “The rebec.”

“What’s that?” Geralt asked, and Jaskier blinked at him for actually joining a conversation. Maybe he needed to have sex more often if it made him capable of actual words.

“Little stringed instrument,” he explained. “It’s like… hm”

“Like a lute had kittens.”

Jaskier laughed and pinched her bottom. “Oh, you are a delight! Yes, like that. Very nice. It suits you. Maybe you could play for me if we come through her again?”

“I would love to play with you, Bard Jaskier.” She winked at him. “If you let Marina play with your Witcher.”

Marina flipped her cloak around her shoulders and patted Geralt on the arm as she opened the door. “I wouldn’t be averse to that. Hope we’ll see you again if you’re ever back this way.”

She reached out to Alisa and their hands caught as they walked away, not looking back.

\--


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by their earlier encounter, Geralt and Jaskier figure out a few things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geralt here is aromantic. I’m not, so I based his expression of it on how some (but not all) aro people describe it and of course some Geralt-typical “I don’t deserve nice things”. Hope I handed it respectfully and plausibly enough. And as Jaskier says here, "You don’t have to love the same way I do to love."  
> (LOL, spellcheck asked if I meant ‘aromatic’, which yes, but no)
> 
> Warnings: hints at nude partner clothed partner kink, and messy/leaking with come kink  
> Slight edging  
> Relationship negotiation,  
> I made Geralt talk entirely too much  
> Mentions of past consensual sex between underage people

The walk back to the inn was fairly relaxed. Geralt’s long strides unhurried, and Jaskier humming a soft melody. 

And trying to keep his mind off of the heated looks that had passed between them while fucking different women.

Did they need to talk about it? Ignore it? Well, Geralt’s default was never “talk about it.” 

Jaskier wanted to shake him and say, “We ENTRAINED!” but without the Oxenfurt Conservatory’s Theory of World Rhythms Seminar that would absolutely not help.

Alisa was a delight.

His smallclothes were damp because he’d pulled them on without drying off well enough.

The chilly air felt warm after their icy dip. 

They’d been tumbled by a pair of lovers.

Geralt was absolutely _gorgeous_ when he fucked. 

Before tonight Jaskier’d never seen him come. It was… better than he’d ever imagined, and he wanted to see it every day. Up close, and personal. And he wanted it to be because of _him_.

They walked side by side up to the inn, and he followed as Geralt walked up the stairs. Geralt opened the door, standing aside to let Jaskier in first and he thought he felt the light brush of a hand at his lower back, but it was gone before he could be sure.

“Are you playing tonight?” 

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Jaskier replied. “Unless you wanted me to get out of your way?”

“Just curious.”

“We planning to leave early tomorrow?”

Geralt hummed an affirmative. Still looking at him oddly.

Was he making it awkward? He was making it awkward, wasn’t he? Usually, when he had too many thoughts in his head, he couldn’t help pouring them out, but he knew he was being uncharacteristically quiet tonight. He couldn’t think of anything but Geralt’s eyes meeting his as he came, and that was something he couldn’t just chatter about.

Geralt sighed and walked to the bed, sitting to pull his boots back off.

“The cold woke me up, but now I’d just like to sleep. So if you’re going to mock me, bard, can you wait till the morning?”

“Mock you! Why would I mock you?”

“Because now you’ve seen me. That I don’t have your way with words with women.” Geralt was staring at his own clasped hands, but was still talking, so Jaskier let him pick his way slowly through what he wanted to say. “I can’t whisper sweet things. I don’t have your delicate touch to make them sigh in longing.” He shrugged. “Let me hear it then. I rut like a beast? I’m big, and scarred, rough with my hands, clumsy with my words. Leave them with bruises instead of caresses?”

Jaskier’s heart ached for him. He sat at the edge of the bed and reached out to cover the Witcher’s hand with his own. “Is that what you think I saw?”

“Isn’t it?”

“First, I didn’t see Marina complaining. I think she got exactly what she wanted. I think she’ll treasure those hand marks on her hips till they fade. Second, I’ve seen all your scars by now and don’t think you’re any less beautiful for them. Your muscles are gorgeous. Your power and intensity were incredibly arousing. You weren’t animalistic, you were passionate. Words… what you did, no words were needed.”

He bumped Geralt’s shoulder with his own. “You actually think I’d think less of you for what I saw? My dear Witcher, I was in awe. And the two of you together, that’s not a sight I’ll soon forget. I’d forget my own songs before I forget that magnificent spectacle. If I didn’t think you’d wring my fragile neck for it, I’d immortalize it in ballads.”

“I heard you. Telling her how she was beautiful when she was doubting herself.”

“She was a treasure! And I’ll tell you the same. You’re beautiful and perfect, so perfect, just how you are.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Tell you the truth?”

“Don’t romance me. I don’t know what to do with… Why would you? Waste that on me?”

Jaskier felt tears well in his eyes. “You big, beautiful, stupid man. Because I love you. There’s nothing more precious to me than you.”

Geralt finally turned to him then, and touched his cheek. Brushed away the teardrop that had escaped. “I can’t give you that. I don’t have the same feelings as humans. People talk of romance but I don’t understand it. I can’t love you the way you want.”

“Love? You’re not going to tell me you can’t love, because I won’t believe you.”

“No. Love, yes.” He brushed back Jaskier’s hair behind his ear. “Yes. But that whole romance thing, no. It’s like explaining color to a blind man.” Never mind that he’d seen Jaskier trying to do exactly that last year. “You are all color. You live and breathe romance like… like songs. I think you need it to live, and I can’t give it to you.”

“Oh, Geralt. Romance, yes, you’re right, sometimes I feel as if I’m entirely made of romance. That’s part of why I’m a bard. It would probably crush something in me if I couldn’t do and say madly romantic things.”

Geralt nodded in resignation and looked away. Jaskier coaxed him back with a finger on his jaw.

“Do you know there people who feel no sexual desire? And those who enjoyed the act but have never craved it like a need? Some people love many at once, and some can only love one. Some love instantly, and others need time and familiarity before they can feel it. There are women who feel no desire for a man, men who feel no desire for a woman. And people like me who love both, love quickly, love sex, and love romance. Our wonderful companions tonight were obviously lovers, but apparently like a dalliance with men occasionally. Others can experience love and sex, but not romantic feelings. And none of us are wrong. None of us are undeserving of love. And you aren’t either. 

“Geralt, it’s simply down to this. Could you love me?”

“I do.”

“Do you feel sexual desire for me?”

“Yes. Definitely.”

“I am so happy to hear it. You’ve made enough grand statements tonight to thrill my romantic nature. If you’ll never write me love poems, or weep with joy at the sight of my eyes in the morning sunrise, or be jealous when I sing to a pretty girl, but can show me with your touch that you love me and want me, that’s all I need. You don’t have to love the same way I do to love. And I, my dear, have enough poetry – and tears – for us both.”

“Jaskier.”

“Yes?”

Geralt just smiled softly, hand against his face, close enough to breathe each other’s air. “Jaskier.”

“Witcher?”

“My Bard.”

“And you say you have no sweet words!”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier laughed. “Yes dear, hmm. Can I kiss…?”

Geralt swooped in and kissed the words off his lips. They lost themselves in it for a while, pressing closer, hands pulling each other nearer.

Jaskier shivered at the feeling of Geralt’s big warm hands under his doublet, against his back. “Hm, I love where this is going, but I’m not sure I can get there again tonight.”

“I could.”

“Oh, you! Didn’t you already come three times? And make your partner come four.”

“Mm-hm.”

“Hmph. Maybe I should try grunting and hmm-ing, instead of trying to make words go together in some semblance of conversation if that’s what it will do for my stamina.”

“Don’t fish for compliments, bard. From what I saw, you did pretty well.”

“Did you like what you saw?”

Geralt just gave him a ‘wasn’t it obvious’ glare.

“Noo,” Jaskier whined, leaning into him dramatically. “Tell me I’m pretty. Tell me I was the prettiest thing in that room.”

Geralt growled.

“You know I’m just teasing you.”

“Mm. You were.”

“Even if I look like a teen compared to your big, manly Witcher body?”

“You really don’t.”

Jaskier was the one to say, “Hmm?” this time, puzzling out that comment.

“The way you dress makes you look… slight. How does it do that? _Why_ does it do that? You aren’t.”

He chuckled. “Who’d take me seriously as a bard if I looked like a blacksmith or mercenary or, well, you? I assure you, it’s quite carefully contrived. I wasn’t sure if that trick worked with your Witcher senses though. Do you like that I look all delicate? Or that I’m not?”

“Yes.” He gave a hint of a smile. “But I think I have to take back what I said about you having all the right things to say. If telling a pretty girl that you’ve fucked teenage boys is what passes as flirting, I have no idea how you charm them.”

“When I was FIFTEEN! Just because YOU didn’t...”

“I did.”

“You did? Do Witcher boys fuck each other like other boarding school boys do across the continent?”

“Sometimes.”

“Now I want stories! Did you have a lover? Was he handsome?”

Geralt shook his head, dismissing the barrage of questions. “You were 18 when we met.”

“I was hardly a child. I’d be considered an adult anywhere. Had been taking care of myself like one for years already. Wait, is that why you ignored all the times I flirted with you then? Not because you hated me, but because you thought I was too young?”

“I was four times your age!”

“Don’t be ridiculous Geralt, you couldn’t have been more than three and a half times!”

“Hm.”

“Were you trying to protect me? From yourself?”

“Hm.”

“Back to ‘hmms’ again are we? My dearest Witcher, you are one thing you’ve never had to protect me from.”

He kissed Geralt a few more times. “I wanted you from the beginning. It might not have been my wisest decision if we’d had sex then, but I would never have regretted it.”

“She didn’t call me ‘Witcher ‘.”

“Who? Marina? I don’t think it escaped her notice.”

“They all say it. Like they don’t want...like any Witcher will do. Like that’s all I am to them. And they get what they wanted. To try a Witcher. Once.”

“Geralt, my dear, do you feel like that when I call you Witcher?”

“You see me. Yes a Witcher, but not just a Witcher.”

“You were never _just_ a Witcher. That’s why I stayed.”

“You leave everyone when you get what you want.”

“You thought if you fucked me, I’d leave? Darling, If you fuck me, I’ll never leave!” Jaskier shrugged. “I’ll probably never leave you even if you don’t, but I’ll pout and flirt mercilessly until you do.”

Geralt raised his eyebrows. 

“No, I don’t always do that! How dare you say such a thing?” He stood, then resettled himself across the Witcher’s thighs, and leaned in for another kiss, and received several. “It was never me leaving them, it was me coming back to you. Now, are you ever going to fuck me?”

“Mm, you said you didn’t want to.”

“I never said any such thing! Oh, that I didn’t think I could come again tonight? Doesn’t mean you can’t. Besides, we’ve been talking a while. And you being so good with giving me your actual words instead of grunts. I think I’m quite recovered, as well as quite romanced. You’ve said a month’s worth of words, just for me. We will need to talk, another time, about what our expectations of fidelity and intimacy are going to be together. But that’s for another day. Now,” he started pulling off Geralt’s shirt, “I’ve been waiting ten years, so please, Geralt, my dearest Witcher, please fuck mee-mmph.”

Geralt shoved him down onto his back on the bed, and unhurriedly but relentlessly peeled his bard out of all his fancy clothes. It was fortunate Jaskier had unbuttoned his doublet when they came into the warmer room. A dozen tiny, silk-covered buttons and Geralt’s big hands were not the ideal combination.

Then he just stood back and stared. 

“What?” Jaskier asked.

“Looking.”

“Are you planning on doing more than looking any time soon?”

“Hush. Looking.” Geralt’s lips quirked slightly as he said it, and Jaskier decided that if he was going to be teased, he’d tease back.

“Well then I guess I’ll have to take care of this myself then?” He stroked his half hard cock. Then winced. “Still cold from the three of you making me dive into a freezing stream. And so are my hands!”

“Hm, are you hinting that you want me to warm it up?”

“I’d appreciate it. Or at least take your clothes off so I can stare uselessly at you too.”

Geralt growled and swooped down to slip both arms under Jaskier’s knees, cupping his hands around Jaskier’s ass cheeks and squeezing softly with an awed expression on his face. He leaned in to kiss his stomach. And solar plexus. And over his heart. Jaskier was about to tease him for heading in the wrong direction when he looked up, licking his lips as if he was going to say something.

After giving him a moment to figure it out, Jaskier leaned up on one elbow, to stroke fingers through the Witcher’s hair. “Tell me,” he encouraged.

“I like you like this.” He ran a hand down Jaskier’s ribs, hips and thigh. “All of you right here to be seen.”

“Then look all you please.” Jaskier spread his arms in invitation. “But if you’re ready to do more than look?”

Geralt hummed and stood. Not taking his eyes off the bard, he threw off his clothes and crawled back over Jaskier.

Jaskier ran his hands over Geralt’s broad shoulders with a softly satisfied smile. “Mm, your shoulders are gorgeous.”

“My… shoulders?”

“Well, all of you is gorgeous. But your shoulders are so wide, and firm,” he pressed his teeth lightly into one, “Strong. Ooh, and your chest,” he smoothed one hand down it, sighing. “But! I can write poems about your muscles another time.” He tucked a foot up against Geralt’s backside, and had to pause for just a second, mentally promising each perfect, tight, ode-worthy curve he’d sing their praises later. “Right now; want you.”

Geralt made a pleased rumble, and leaned down to press kisses to the side of Jaskier’s arched neck, his cock pressed to the warm crease where his thighs met. “What do you want?”

“Ooh, Geralt, anything.”

The Witcher made a dissatisfied noise. Which Jaskier didn’t think that declaration warranted!

“A dangerous offer. I know your tastes are broader than most, but I don’t want you to just tolerate something you don’t like just because you think I want it.”

“Oh, darling, I would consider anything – _anything_ – you want. I won’t promise there’s nothing I wouldn’t love. But I trust you and trust that if it’s something you want, it wouldn’t be something that would harm me.” He paused to trace a finger over the scowl crease in his brow. “Now preferences, yes. And favorite fantasies. Like I’d really love it if you’d put that big cock in me. Unless there’s something else you prefer.”

“I want that too.” His eyes trailed down Jaskier’s body. “And other things. But those are for other days.”

“Yes? But now, you’ll fuck me. Right?”

“Hm-mm. Not yet. Need to start with something smaller. And… oil? Do you have any?”

Jaskier made grabby hands toward his bag. “Bag. Let me. And your fingers are not that small.”

He handed over the bag as requested and teased a finger up Jaskier’s inner thigh. “Too big? I don’t know what else…”

“No. Gods, no. They’re perfect. Here.” He passed him a small bottle and let the bag flop to the floor. “Some other time I’m going to come just from you fingering me. Cock tonight, though. I can’t tell you how long I’ve been wanting it. Well, yes I can. Since the first time I saw you sitting in that corner in Posada, ooooh. Yeah. Ah! Gods, yes that’s perfect.”

Geralt added a second finger and hummed appreciatively. “Taking me so well.”

“Mm, I will.”

Geralt kissed him again, then trailed kisses and licks down his chest, detouring to make Jaskier gasp as he sucked each nipple, and raising his eyebrows in a way that hinted they’d be exploring that more another time.

Jaskier continued to encourage him with happy noises, but when the Witcher’s lips wrapped around the head of his cock, he gasped and squirmed. If they weren’t in an inn where too many other people could hear them, it would have been a scream. 

Geralt had realized he was trying to not wake their neighbors, and slid back up his body to muffle his shout with a tongue-deep kiss as he teased the tip of a fourth finger into him.

“Oh, gods! Geralt!” he gasped when Geralt eased back on the aggressive kiss enough to let him babble into it.

“Mm, can you come from just this?”

He could. Geralt’s abs rubbed wetly against his cock trapped between them, with every movement. It was glorious. It was torturous. 

“Oh gods, Geralt, don’t! Yes! Yes I most surely could, but don’t. I definitely can’t manage a third time tonight so I want it to be with you in me.”

Geralt continued to finger him, almost leisurely, meeting his eyes as he nuzzled his lips and breathed against them, until Jaskier nearly begged. 

“Geralt, please! Too close.”

Geralt stilled his fingers, but didn’t remove them, kissing Jaskier again.

His hand clenched against the back of Geralt’s neck, and the long white hair caught in it. That touch paled in comparison to all the rest, but he had to savor it as well, because right now he could touch it as much as he wanted. 

Geralt twisted his fingers again, making Jaskier gasp and break the kiss to stop him from pushing him right over the edge.

Geralt smiled at him wolfishly, hand once more unmoving.

“Oh gods! You’re getting off on teasing me!” Jaskier whined. 

“Mm-hm. ‘S fun.”

“I thought ‘Witchers don’t care about fun’.”

“I like this fun.” Geralt gave him a smug look, but slid his fingers out.

Jaskier would have complained, but it meant he was getting something even better. 

“Back or knees?” Geralt stroked the oil down his big cock, and Jaskier stared a moment at that beautiful sight.

Jaskier dug his heels into the lower curves of that magnificent ass. “Like this. Don't want to let go of you.”

Geralt nodded and took his mouth again as he slid in, slowly but without pause. Deep. So deep it bordered on painful. Perfect. So perfect it bordered on painful.

And oh, if Jaskier thought Geralt’s body and cock, strength and control were awe-inspiring when seeing him fuck from a short distance away, feeling it up close was ten times better. A hundred times better.

He clutched one shoulder feeling the muscles bunch and move as Geralt thrust, the firm wide thighs pressing his apart, the tight muscles of his stomach dragging exquisitely over Jaskier’s leaking cock, the sweat beading on the back of his neck where Jaskier had his fingers buried in his hair yet again. 

And his lips. No amount of feeling them on his would ever be enough. 

After all the watching and talking, the flirting and teasing, the kissing and this spectacular fucking, he couldn’t hold out for long. His muscles trembled and a high whine rose in his chest as he felt his climax impending. Geralt pulled back from his mouth to let him gasp for much needed air and sucked just above his collarbone instead. He came down onto his elbows to wrap his arms around Jaskeir’s shoulders, grounding him in the moment while he felt as if he could shake apart from the strength of his orgasm as he came. 

Geralt’s hips hadn’t missed a beat as he held the strong, steady rhythm throughout, but he slowed as Jaskier started to come down, giving him a little room to catch his breath. The slide of the Witcher’s hard abs through the slick of his come was almost too much for his oversensitive cock. 

He blinked open eyes he hadn't realized he’d closed and found Geralt’s face studying his, waiting for his nod to continue. 

Geralt held him to his chest as he claimed one more deep kiss with a pleased ‘hm’ before raising up on his arms again for fast, hard, jarringly deep thrusts.

Gods, that flawless rhythm would be the envy of a drum corps conductor, Jaskier thought before it finally faltered. He felt Geralt’s muscles tense, and the cock inside him swell and pulse as he poured out his release.

Jaskier would have been amused that perfect face twisted up in slack-jawed pleasure as the Witcher came, he was strikingly beautiful even then.

They leisurely stroked sweaty skin and kissed as they slowly recovered. 

Geralt settled on one elbow at Jaskier’s side and cupped his softening cock through the hot wet mess of seed smeared between them. “Warm enough now?”

“Guh,” Jaskier managed inarticulately, which made Geralt smirk.

“Heh, sleep bard.”

“‘M all sticky,” Jaskier protested, eyelids staying closed a moment too long every time they drifted shut. “Should clean up.”

Geralt brushed a feather-light touch of his lips across them, leaned in for a quick suck at one nipple, then trailed a finger down down his wet cock again. 

“No. Want to look at you like this a little longer.” 

He dragged Jaskier’s thigh up over his and Jaskier could feel the come drip from his hole as the position opened him up more. 

Geralt dragged his finger through that wet as well with a pleased hum. “Pretty.”

“How did I not know you were so filthy?”

In response Geralt dipped a fingertip inside him.

“Tomorrow. Can’t go again tonight.”

“Not trying to fuck you again, just…” He shrugged and Jaskier peeked one eye open to see his eyes on that hand. “Just like seeing proof that I did.”

Jaskier drifted a bit, enjoying how Geralt enjoyed touching him. Then a little bit more.

When he woke up, Geralt was just finishing dressing. Jaskier didn’t feel sticky or crusty, and there was a blanket over him, so Geralt must have cleaned and covered them when he had enough of staring at the mess he’d made of the bard.

“Ready to get going?” Geralt asked, looking up from his packing when he heard Jaskier move.

Jaskier whined a bit and tugged on the blanket that had slipped off his bare shoulder.

“Quick enough and we can have an inn and a bed by nightfall instead of a night in the woods.”

“You can fuck me in the woods.”

“Or I could fuck you not at all.” 

“You wouldn’t!” He didn’t believe Geralt, but the Witcher just stared him down with a scowl. He sat up. “Well, an inn would be nice.”

Geralt tossed his clothes at him with a grin and went off to stables.

They were walking towards the edge of town, Geralt still leading Roach through the narrower streets, when Alisa and Marina approached them with barely suppressed smiles.

Alisa pushed a cloth wrapped packet into Geralt’s hands, standing up on her toes to press a quick kiss to the corner of his lips while he was too surprised to stop her. She bounced over to throw her arms around Jaskier while Geralt gaped. 

Marina chuckled, light touch against the bracer of his forearm a more respectful distance.

“She licked your come out of me last night, Witcher, I don’t think a kiss is too forward.”

Geralt stared at her incredulously while Alisa flicked the high collar of Jaskier’s chemise revealing the purpling mark Geralt had sucked there the night before. 

“Just ‘traveling companions’ huh?”

Jaskier gave her a shrug with a pleased smile.

“Journey bread and cheese,” Marina said to Geralt, tapping the cloth bundle. She glanced at the distant passers-by. “As thanks for saving the town from the Basilisk.”

“Hmm.”

“Yes, we’ll enjoy that!” Jaskier agreed. 

“And if you’re ever nearby again, you should visit.” She shrugged at Geralt’s impassive expression. “I know better than expect promises. Just know you’d be welcome.”

“Maybe,” he allowed, gruffly, and Jaskier noted his expression actually softened.

After another round of hugs from Alisa, which Geralt endured stoically, they were on their way. 

“If you’re done flirting with pretty girls, that is,” Geralt said dryly.

“Yes, Geralt.” Jaskier turned and winked at him with a spring in his step. “And now I can spend the rest of the day flirting with pretty Witchers instead!”

Geralt waited until they passed the bend in the road cutting them off from the sight of the town, before he pulled Jaskier in for a kiss.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As much as I love feedback that talks about your favorite parts, squeals about your love of characters that I love, or details what you think worked best in a story, I'm admittedly terrible at leaving detailed feedback myself, and always feel like anything I can say isn't good enough.  
> So if you're not feeling particularly good with words and just want to leave a heart or smile emoji, comment "Like" or give me your review 'in three words or less', I will love and cherish each one!

**Author's Note:**

> I was researching what medieval musical instruments would be had by non-professionals, and when I saw the rebec and thought it looked like a kitten lute, I had to include it.
> 
> I envisioned Marina looking like MCU’s (and WandaVision’s) Darcy Lewis. Alisa is kind of an amalgamation of the stereotypical secretly-pretty nerdy girls in college movies.


End file.
